


sweet words and fevers all leave us right here in the cold

by moonmotels



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: COCO X MISTY RIGHTS, F/F, it’s fleetwood MAC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-27 19:07:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21397165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonmotels/pseuds/moonmotels
Summary: cordelia & misty take on a fleetwood mac concert.
Relationships: Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode
Comments: 12
Kudos: 107





	sweet words and fevers all leave us right here in the cold

**Author's Note:**

> fills the prompts: “Can I hold your hand?” “You’re special to me” “I don’t need you” and “Please don’t be mad at me”
> 
> also, coco x misty deserves rights change my mind

* * *

_  
You said I killed you - haunt me, then ! _

Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë

* * *

“_Psst_.”

Cordelia was wrenched from a deep sleep where she was dreaming of blonde hair tickling her throat and soft pink lips crushing against hers mercilessly. At the foot of her bed stood said dream, illuminated by the first dredges of pale sunlight peeking through the cracks her curtains.

“Jesus, Mist, what are you doing? It’s-“ she checks the clock on her bedside table, “five thirty in the morning.” Part of her would be annoyed at being woken up, but, well, it’s Misty. There are worse ways to be brought from slumber.

“I couldn’t sleep. Too damn excited.”

“So you decided to wake me to join you in this excitement?” Even with heavy eyes still deep from sleep, she cracks a wide grin at Misty’s palpable delight.

Misty bobs her head up and down. “I figured anybody else woulda gotten mad at me.” she adds, “please don’t be mad at me.” 

_That’s assuming I have the capability to be mad at you._

Cordelia yawns. “Can I convince you to let me get at least one more hour of sleep? The show’s not for fourteen more hours.”

Misty sucks her cheeks in and contemplates a moment. “I suppose so. But don’t oversleep, Stevie’s gonna be waitin’.” 

“I promise. Would you like to lay here with me? Nobody else is awake to make breakfast anyway.” 

Eight months ago, Cordelia had made arrangements to take Misty to a Fleetwood Mac concert at their local stadium. It was the least she could do, hoping it would provide some sense of relief that the memories clinging to Misty like rot no longer have control over her life. 

As Misty crawled under the covers on her unspoken side of the bed, Cordelia relaxes and allows herself to get comfortable once more. They did this sometimes, laid close enough to lean in and kiss, but they never did. To Misty, it almost seems like they never will.

Tragic, really.  
  
Misty curls her cold toes around the warmth emanating off Cordelia’s calves, stretching out so she took up her half and most of Cordelia’s. The chilly intrusion sent a shiver through the Supreme and she unconsciously shifts closer towards Misty’s ever warm body. For a while they didn’t speak, the only noises coming from the pipes creaking and groaning in their old house.

Cordelia’s eyes shut and her breathing nearly evens out when she hears a quiet, “Do you think Stevie’s gon’ play Landslide?”

She suppresses a laugh, not wanting to make Misty feel bad, seeing as this was her first concert. Stevie’s impromptu visit before the seven wonders didn’t exactly count, not that Cordelia wanted to remember anything from that part of her life anyway. “I think she will, yes.” 

In this early morning light, Misty looks beautiful enough to kiss long and hard without ever coming up for air, like she does every other second of the day. Something about this hour, the moments before the sun fully rises must make Cordelia softer than normal.

“Okay. I really hope she does.” She thankfully went quiet after this, letting Cordelia have two more peaceful hours of sleep before the day really began.

When Misty decides it’s been long enough, she rouses Cordelia again and forces her downstairs to share a quick breakfast. Cross legged and bare faced, all of Misty’s dreams come true in the form of Cordelia, a living, breathing angel on earth. She wishes she had enough guts to tell her so, to say that Cordelia fills every single crack in her heart so effortlessly it makes it hard to breathe sometimes. But she doesn’t. She sits quietly and drinks her chamomile tea across the table, stealing wry glances and well-timed smiles that make her eyes crinkle shut. If she tries hard enough, she can convince herself this small sliver of Cordelia will be enough.

After Misty did most of the eating, Cordelia bid her goodbye, promising she’ll be done work in time for the concert.

  
Hours later, Misty was back in the kitchen for lunch, picking on the fruit plate Cordelia had made for her when Coco came breezing in.

“Morning, babe.”

“It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

“Yeah, but I just woke up. You excited for tonight? I’m gonna start pre-gaming at like six.”

“Wait,” Misty’s blood seized, “You’re coming?”

“Uh, yeah, didn’t Cordelia tell you? Me, Queenie, and Mallory. Not Madison though, she said she’d rather spend another fifty years in Hell before coming to see Stevie with you.”

Misty scratches the back of her neck and lets out a puff of indignance. “No, she didn’t tell me. I kinda thought it was just me n’ her.”

“Oh, shit.”

“No, it’s fine, Coco. I’d love for you to come, really. Stevie will love you.” She shoves another strawberry in her mouth and tries desperately to pretend like she hadn’t assumed Cordelia was doing this for her and her only.

“Listen, Cordy’s gonna be all over you anyway. It’ll be like we’re not even there. Just a regular day.” 

Misty snorts and digs her fork into a piece of pineapple. “If you say so.”

Coco flips the lid to the coffee maker with anger and sighs in annoyance. “When are y’all gonna stop pretending you don’t like each other and just fuck?” She looks back at Misty’s unsettling gaze and corrects, “Sorry, _make love_.”

At the crass idea of even being allowed to touch Cordelia like that, Misty’s little body goes into overdrive. “You sound like Madison.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want to see Cordelia on her back all out of breath and-”

“Jesus Christ, Coco,” Misty hisses, “Can ya please not bring this shit up here? In the kitchen? People will hear you.”

“The whole house knows except you two.”

“I’m leaving now,” Misty stands and gathers her things, planning on retreating to the greenhouse until Cordelia was done her annoyingly important activities.

“No, wait,” Coco snatches her wrist, “I’m sorry, alright? Come watch a movie or something with me, I’ll be nice.”

“I gotta go check on our- _my_ Belladonna,” It’s a lame excuse and they both know it.

“You’ve literally got all day to do that. I promise I won’t bring Cordelia up again, okay? Nobody wants to watch movies with me because they think I talk too much.” Coco pouts and Misty almost feels sorry for her.

Almost.

Still, they end up in Coco’s bedroom, Misty begrudgingly crawling into the four poster bed with more pillows than she’s ever seen in one person’s room. Coco flops next to her, reaching for the remote and flicking through the channels with precision.

“What’re we watchin’?”

“Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion, have you ever seen it?”

“Nah, I usually stick to documentaries about Fleetwood Mac and those weird old black & white tv shows Cordelia likes.”

At Coco’s incredulous look, Misty questions, “What?”

“I’m just wondering how you’re surviving in the twenty first century, that’s all.”

Misty shoves her shoulder. “I’m doin’ just dandy, thank you.”

Halfway through the movie, Coco snaps her fingers and a bowl of popcorn appears between the two of them. Shoving a handful into her mouth, she chews for a moment before hitting pause. “Okay, so like, I know I said I wouldn’t bring Cordelia up but I just have some questions.”

“You trapped me in here with a comfy bed and some snacks just t’make me talk about her, didn’t you?”

“I'm truly shocked and saddened you think so little of me.”

“Coco,” she warns.

“I’m just trying to figure out what the fuck is up with you two. I’m tired of playing detective.”

Misty sighs and mindlessly twirls a piece of hair between her fingertips, wishes that talking about Cordelia didn’t make her sick to her stomach. “There’s nothing up with us,” she says quietly, “We’re just friends.”

“Bullshit. I don’t do half the shit you two do when I’m with Mallory. _We_ are just friends. You and Cordelia are on some weird ass soulmate shit.”

Accepting that Coco will keep her here well past the time they need to leave, she resigns, “What do you want to know?”

Coco, as usual, goes straight for the jugular. “Are you in love with her?”

Misty feels the air grow thin and something inside her barely quells the unstoppable urge to wail like a banshee. Love doesn’t begin to cover what she feels for Cordelia. There’s no word in the human language, dead script or otherwise, that could accurately describe what goes on in Misty’s head when Cordelia is around. If she had to guess, it would be like Eve lusting after that first taste of forbidden fruit, or maybe Romeo defying all rules to be with Juliet once even though it meant an untimely death. That delicious, soul crushing agony of wanting something so badly that you're willing to die for it. _Willing to suffer in silent torment because you're too chicken shit to actually go for it. _

It’s ironic, this sick game of chess they’ve been playing for years without ever having made a single move. 

“I am, yes.” She admits this easily, without a hint of deceit lacing her tone. “I will never not be in love with her, I know that much.”

Coco looks shocked, clearly not expecting that to have been so easy. “But you- why haven’t you told her?”

Misty smiles wistfully, blinks rapidly to keep tears at bay. “It’s never the right time. She’s the Supreme, you know? She’s got all these real important things to do and I’m always gonna be on the backburner,” she pauses to let out a dry laugh, “but I’m fine with it because she still treats me like the most beautiful thing in the world, even at the end of the day when she’s so tired she can barely keep her eyes open.”

“She loves you, Misty,” Coco blurts, “It’s so fucking obvious. She would never do half the shit she does for you if it were anyone else.”

“No- Cordelia does nice things for everyone. She bought you that book last week, remember? About becoming one with your powers? And she grew Mallory those cute lil’ succulents to line the windowsills. She takes care of all of us.” Pretending like this thought didn’t make her want to die, Misty pulls the blanket tightly over her shoulders despite the warmth coming from the vents in the room. The ache of loving Cordelia this much sends a perpetual icy chill blossoming through her veins.

Coco shakes her head back and forth slowly. “Y’all have got it so twisted. This is your problem, you think so little of yourself that you ignore all the signs thrown in your face.”

Misty crosses her arms defiantly. “I’m not ignorin’ anything. It’s the truth. Cordelia has much more important things to do than worry about a swamp rat’s dumb feelings. Can we finish the movie, or did you have anything else to grill me about?”

“You’re fucking impossible, truly.”

“And you’re fucking annoying, truly.”

Coco throws a piece of popcorn at her and when it gets stuck in Misty’s hair, they both dissolve into laughter. Misty snuggles closer into the crook of Coco’s arm and releases a sigh of sorrow. “Sorry I got defensive, it’s a touchy subject.”

“I would be defensive too if I was in love with the world’s hottest witch. Come to think of it, I may have a little crush on Cordelia too. I have always wanted to be with a girl and she's fucking sexy.”

Misty smacks her upside the head and Coco howls in mock pain. “Jesus, I’m fucking kidding. But seriously though, I think you should tell her.”

“Yeah,” Misty agrees, “I should.” _But I won’t. This secret is coming to my grave with me._

Near the end of the movie, Misty still hadn’t moved from where she curled up next to Coco, head practically drooping on her chest. There was a soft knock at the door, and then Cordelia’s dreamy voice asking, “Coco? Have you seen Mist- _oh_.”

When she cracks the door open, she seems bewildered Coco and Misty are together on her bed in the middle of the afternoon. Cordelia clears her throat once, then again, straightening her shoulders lightly. “I was just looking for you, Misty. I apologize for interrupting.”

“Nah, we were just watchin’ a movie.”

“I made her Netflix and chill with me,” Coco jokes, and the amusement in her tone is lost on Cordelia. 

Her eyes widen as she backs slowly from the room, gaze still trained on Misty’s arm slung innocently around Coco’s waist. “I guess I’ll leave you two at it.”

She turns to leave when Misty hops from the bed, shooting daggers at Coco, who merely flits a hand in the air and goes back to the movie. “Wait, Delia.”

Out in the hall, Cordelia seems smaller, like a piece of her has been knocked off a pedestal at the image of Coco and Misty lying in bed together. 

“I was just making sure you were ready,” Cordelia says, and Misty can see her throat constrict with every word. She looks flustered, so unusual for her, and it makes Misty’s head hurt. There are so many sides to Cordelia, and each one that Misty cracks open is better than the last, no matter how it’s portrayed.

“Oh,” Misty looks down at herself, “Yeah, I was just gonna go like this. Do I look okay?”

Cordelia gives her a once over, trying not to let her eyes linger too long. “You look good,” she babbles after a beat too long, “Great. You always look great.”

“Ah, shucks,” Misty grins, “So d’you.” Cordelia does look good and everyone who merely glances her will know it. Wherever she goes, she leaves behind a trail of people that crane their necks to stop and stare. Sometimes Misty feels jealous, but then Cordelia’s hand will brush up against hers and the decimating rush of emotion ends all train of thought.

“I figured we can leave in a half hour, is that okay?” Cordelia can’t help herself as her hand raises unconsciously and finds purchase tugging a strand of untamable hair. Misty leans forward into the touch, wants to tell Cordelia to tug it like she means it.

But she doesn’t. Instead, “Yeah, that’s good with me. Is everyone else ready?”

Cordelia seems perplexed for a moment, and Misty nearly asks her why when she answers, “I think so, yes. Queenie and Mallory were in the kitchen last I checked, discussing ways to sneak alcohol into the show.”

“Sounds about right for ‘em.”

Another light pull on her hair, and then, “I guess I’ll see you in a little while.”

Before Misty could respond, Cordelia was walking down the hallway and retreating behind her closed office door. 

The next half hour ticks by so slowly that Misty thinks she might go insane. She bides her time by listening to Queenie and Mallory discuss their favorite Fleetwood Mac songs, piping up every once in a while to list off numerous facts only she could know. 

Of course, just as Coco got in Misty’s personal space and forces a drink in her hands, Cordelia floats regally around the corner. At the image of the two of them in such close quarters for the second time, she averts her eyes and furiously pretends she’s not bothered.

“Is everyone ready?”

With confirmation, they all pile into the car. Halfway out the door, Queenie bustles past Misty and calls, “Shotgun!” before Misty can protest. Normally she sits in the front next to Cordelia, who lets her have control over the music and sings along to all the songs she knows by heart now because of Misty.

Today, though, she squeezes in the back seat between Mallory and Coco and forces a half assed smile when Cordelia glances at her through the rear view mirror. She is excited, terribly so to see Stevie again after so many months spent down in that slimy joke of a personal Hell, but she thinks maybe she would be more so if Cordelia was ever so inclined to hold her hand through this. That’s okay, right? Friends hold hands and spend every waking hour of the day imagining a life in which they are together ...right?

As they pull into the arena parking lot, Misty’s stomach is suddenly swarming with butterflies. The last time she’d seen Stevie was right before the seven wonders, when she’d been so sure Misty could do it and become the next supreme. Her stomach twists in knots at the idea of letting Stevie down, a feeling she knows all too well even after completing the grunt of the healing process.

_Maybe this was a mistake, maybe we should just go home and we can put on a movie and call it a night. Cordelia will understand._

Right as she opens her mouth to say this, Cordelia nudges her with her shoulder. “Are you doing alright? You seem so far away.”

Misty tries to say that when she’s with Cordelia she is never far away because Cordelia feels like home and heaven all wrapped up into one giant gift complete with an obnoxious ribbon. 

All that comes out is, “I’m great.” She steadies herself and reaches blindly for her hand, never once taking her eyes off Cordelia’s unfathomably exquisite features. “Can I hold your hand? It’s my first concert n’ all.” She punctuates the request with a soft shrug, knowing that Cordelia couldn’t deny it with a gun to her head.

“Of course.” Cordelia takes the extended hand and wraps her own around it, casually acts like the innocuous touch didn’t send a shockwave of pain and pleasure through her body.

Their friends had already skipped ahead and found their front row seats, too tired of waiting for the lovebirds to catch up. As Coco turns and excitedly reaches for Misty, Cordelia lets her hand fall from Misty’s tight grasp. 

The places Cordelia’s fingers had touched leave behind a tingling buzz, something akin to Misty’s magic but so much more dizzying. She thinks it would be nice of Cordelia to touch more of her body, to see where else she can leave traces of herself behind. The thought alone makes Misty’s eyes flutter shut.

The lights go down soon after and Misty is filled with so much immeasurable joy that she promptly forgets all her problems the second Stevie walks on stage in a blaze of magical energy. Followed close behind were Christine and the rest of the band, and a piece of Misty feels pure unadulterated bliss for what seems like the first time in her entire life. The happiness she experiences with Cordelia is a separate kind, one that sets her body aflame with a saccharine mix of desire and agony.

This time, though, she can barely remember to reign in her excitement. Coco, Queenie, and Mallory dance in the aisle with her, doing their best twirls as Stevie’s voice permeates the deepest crevices of Misty’s soul. Every song makes her want to cry and sing the lyrics at the top of her lungs, which she takes the liberty to do just so. Every so often, she catches a peek of Cordelia murmuring the words and her heart swells with pride.

When Christine sings Everywhere, Misty looks over at Cordelia and stifles a cry. Something about the way tears shine in her dark eyes makes Misty’s insides clench, so she snakes an arm around Cordelia’s waist and pulls her flush. They sway together like this, bodies so close that Misty will feel the press of her skin long after it’s gone, an imprint on the fabric of her soul.

Stevie finishes her performance of Gold Dust Woman, doing one final twirl in her gold shawl before returning to the mic. The crowd quiets down and she starts, “This next one is special for me and I hope for so many of you. I’d like to dedicate it to someone right here in the crowd.”

Cordelia catches Misty’s eye and she is suddenly overcome with a rush of heat that blooms over her chest and neck. There is a flash of understanding across Misty’s face as Stevie continues, “My good friend Miss Cordelia Goode, our powerful Supreme, called me up out of the blue one afternoon and told me she’d be bringing one of my favorite people along with her. Misty? Are you here my darling?” She spots Misty and smiles so wide it nearly hurts. “This one's for you, baby. You are so strong and I want you to know how endlessly proud I am of you. I love you, and I can’t wait to see all the good you do in the world.”

Everything fades from focus save for Stevie and Cordelia’s presence in the space next to her. Misty mouths the words to Landslide with as much conviction she could muster through her tears and broken sobs. Cordelia tentatively reaches over and laces her fingers through Misty’s, holding on to her like a sailor clinging to a capsized ship. Misty is a lifeline, her direct reason for living, and here, in this moment, she doesn’t particularly care who knows. Tomorrow will be a new day to consider the ramifications. With her two fingers hooked in Misty’s grip, a very large piece of Cordelia’s heart is brought to redemption.

When the song ends much too soon for her liking, Stevie parts the stage with one more final wave to Misty. 

Misty turns to face Cordelia, unable to form a coherent thought when Cordelia speaks for her, loud enough to hear over the band.

“I hope you enjoyed that. Truly, I do.”

“You did all this for me?”

Cordelia shrugs like it was nothing, like she hadn’t just given Misty a gift she didn’t know she needed. “It only took a phone call or two. It was mostly Stevie. She feels bad about it, you know.”

They didn’t need to voice it out loud. They didn’t need to discuss the thing that keeps Misty awake most nights, and consequently Cordelia because she is always right there to comfort her. There’s no reason to dwell on the past because they are here and she is home. What a triumph, after what Misty has been through. She thinks she could do it all over again, and maybe do things a little differently the next time around. Maybe that time she’d have the guts to take Cordelia’s face between palms and plant a kiss on her lips, the kind of kiss she’s been dreaming about doing since day one.

The rest of the concert is a blur of lights and sounds, going by much too quickly for Misty to comprehend in the moment. She is comforted that Mallory has been recording most everything for the duration of the night, and sets a reminder to ask her to send the videos.

As the lights go up and people begin crowding the aisles to leave, a security guard stops Cordelia as she steps towards the exit. “Miss Goode? Will you and Miss Day accompany me?”

Coco shoves Misty to snap her out of shock, urging her towards where the guard is gesturing. She takes Cordelia’s hand without thinking of the consequences and blindly follows them through a short darkened tunnel, where Stevie is waiting at the end like a pot of gold. Cordelia hung back and let the two blondes rediscover their friendship that had been lost along the way.

Stevie pulls Misty into a hug that feels like she’s coming home after a long day, swathing her in warmth and comfort that makes the pit of her stomach constrict in longing for a thousand more. When she pulls back, she takes Misty’s face in her hands and caresses tear stained cheeks with gloved fingers. 

“I missed you so badly, my dearest.”

Misty can barely hold back the sob that rips from the back of her throat. “I missed you, Stevie.”

“Did you know that when Cordelia lost you, she called me and asked what to do?”

That was news to Misty. She shakes her head no.

Stevie continues, “I told her that you would want her to be the best damn Supreme anyone has ever seen. I said that you'd love to see her to flourish and grow your coven so strong that when you returned it’d feel like you’re home.”

It _had_ felt like that. When she walked through those doors with Nan, Misty knew she was right where she belonged. Even with the mass of new girls and changes around the house, it still was the place where she had been meant to be all along. Cordelia was her home.

The fact that Cordelia had asked Stevie for advice both equally thrills and upsets Misty, and she’s at an inexplicable loss for words. 

Making sure that Cordelia is out of earshot as she waits in the wings, Stevie captures Misty’s chin once more. “You best tell her how you feel before it’s too late again.”

“I don’t know what you-“

Cordelia tentatively steps into view and interrupts them. “Stevie, I’m so sorry, but one of my girls blew up something in the greenhouse and I’m needed for damage control.”

“Of course, Miss Supreme. Responsibilities and all.” Stevie wraps her arms around Cordelia and hugs her just as hard, murmuring something that Misty doesn’t quite catch.

“Thank you, Stevie. Really and truly, best night a’ my life,” Misty says when they part, the fringe of her shawl tickling her bare thighs where her dress has ridden up. If she’d been paying more attention, she may have caught Cordelia staring at the expanse of pale skin with hunger in her eyes.

“It was nothing. I’m just so pleased you’re home and in the arms of someone who loves you.” She spares a knowing look at Cordelia, who ducks her head to hide the blush.

“I’ll call you. No, I’ll text. Shit, no, I’ll just email you so I don’t bother ya none.”

“Whatever you desire, Misty,” Stevie giggles and bids them goodbye with one final twirl, gone like a magician in a puff of smoke. 

On the way out to the car, Cordelia stays glued to Misty’s side, a faithful dog to its owner. “Did you really have a good time?” she asks quietly, as though afraid of Misty’s answer.

Looking her square in the eye, Misty nods. “I mean that. Top five best nights of my life.”

Cordelia wants to selfishly ask what the other four are, but Coco interrupts their semi-intimate moment by honking the horn as they near closer to the car. “I gotta pee y’all, let’s put a little pep in our step.”

Misty laughs wholeheartedly and crams in the back seat, too elated to be upset that she is not in the front next to Cordelia once again.

At home, Cordelia quickly shifts back into Supreme mode and rushes out towards the greenhouse, muttering about how the coven falls apart when she is gone for all of three hours.

Misty meanders into the kitchen looking for a late night snack, Coco right on her heels.

“So, Landslide, huh?”

Her cheeks flush. “What about it?”

“You do realize that like, Cordelia did that for you? Called up Stevie fucking Nicks to dedicate quite possibly the world’s most beautiful song to you like it was absolutely nothing?”

“She was just bein’ nice, that’s all.” Nice. What a funny word. It would have been _nice_ to gather Cordelia in her arms and kiss her in front of 40,000 people, Stevie, and their closest friends. 

Oh well.

“Nice is buying the girl you like coffee, or making her eggs in the morning. That was not nice,” Coco huffs, “it was love.”

Misty suddenly feels too exposed, like the bright lights in the kitchen have all flooded her in a spotlight. She can’t fathom how to articulate her response, so instead says, “I’m tired,” and takes her glass of milk with her up the stairs.

Weirdly, her brain doesn’t sync in time with her feet, and she finds herself in front of Cordelia’s bedroom door. In her mind, she convinces herself that when Cordelia is back she’ll just express her thanks and tell her again what a wonderful night it’s been before retreating to her own room.

Nothing more, nothing less.

This is where Cordelia finds her an hour later, curled up on the window seat with her drink in hand. It almost startles her, but Misty is bathed in white light from the moon and Cordelia thinks she may be hallucinating. Thinks, maybe God had an extra angel on standby to send down to bring Cordelia to salvation. And in a way, that is what Misty has become for her. A guiding light on the worst of days, a companion with wings and a halo on the best of them.

“Misty,” Cordelia greets kindly, “How are you?”

“Coco says that you’re in love with me,” Misty deadpans, and the words flow out like lava before she can stop them. “Any idea why she thinks that?” She hadn’t planned to say this, but she is tired of beating around the bush. So fucking tired. 

Cordelia, on her behalf, doesn’t let the question phase her. In her usual elegance, she kicks off her heels and removes her earrings, sitting down at the vanity to wipe away her makeup. When she replies, she keeps her voice strong and steady, always so goddamn unruffled. 

“Why do _you_ think Coco said that?”

“I asked you first,” Misty challenges.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. That I don’t spend my days dreaming of being with you? That I don’t need you? I can’t live like this anymore, Misty. I’m tired of pretending.”

“You coulda said somethin’ months ago.”

“I could have done a lot of things months ago.”

Misty hasn’t moved from where she sits at the window, her eyes trained on the world outside like she wants to be out there, away from this. Away from Cordelia. Cordelia feels a gut punch that Misty hasn’t made any effort to express similar notions of love. Her heart has been broken, shattered into a million pieces; and yet she is still here, sweeping them all into a pile to drop at Misty’s feet like an offering. 

“Then why didn’t you?” she finally says, and it makes Cordelia turn fully in her chair.

“Why didn’t I what?” 

“Do something months ago.”

Cordelia is dumbfounded, unable to force a string of words out. It takes her a moment, but she answers, “You were healing. I didn’t want to be a nuisance. To dissuade your process,” she admits, and it is the truth because she means it more than anything she’s ever meant before. 

The one thing that scares her most on this earth is not the intensity of which she loves Misty, but instead that this ferocity could lead to another disastrous outcome and Misty will be left ruined once again by Cordelia’s hand.

“I’ve been healed for a while now,” Misty whispers softly, and that is her own truth. She thinks the healing was probably done the second she looked into Cordelia’s matching eyes and watched them fill with tears over her. _For_ her.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you do anything earlier?” Cordelia repeats Misty’s earlier question back, wants to hear her version of things more than she needs anything. A baby, a loving marriage, the supremacy. Nothing in her life compares to what she wants in this moment, where she has shed her stoic exterior and allowed Misty to see underneath it, to see the deepest desires she has stored in her heart for so long.

“Because you treat everyone around here with love,” Misty sniffles, “I’m nothing special.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” she snaps, “I was dumb for even thinking that tonight would have just been you n’ me.”

“No,” Cordelia shakes her head, regains control of their conversation, “you’re wrong. It was supposed to be just you and I. It was meant to be something only the two of us did together.”

“Then why-“

“Queenie and Coco heard me on the phone with Stevie and bought their own tickets before I could say anything. I wanted this for you and only you.”

“Oh.”

“You’re special to me, Misty. I don’t know how else to put it. I don’t think of anyone else the way I think of you. I can’t.”

Misty can do nothing but say, “_Oh_,” again.

Cordelia sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I don’t understand how you can’t see that I love you.”

In a way, Misty had known that Cordelia felt things for her, deeper than the loaded feelings people write love songs and poems about. Her own unwillingness to even touch on these emotions is what infuriates her, but the idea of being so open and vulnerable again is too much to comprehend. What happens if Misty spills everything that’s been tightly wound in her heart and tomorrow she is ripped away again? How can she put this fear into words without sounding like a crazed lunatic to Cordelia?

She decides that whatever happens when the sun rises, she will not regret what she is about to do. The moonlight invigorates her, empowers her to take control of her emotions before dawn comes and a new day begins. Her secrets are safe here in the night, under the dark cloak of stars and constellations. They will not judge her or jumble her words like harsh sunlight will. She’s safe to do and say as she pleases.

“I did. I did see it,” Misty nods assuredly. “I know you love me.”

“Then how are we here? Like this? Why are we-” Cordelia tugs her bottom lip between teeth and focuses all her energy on not crying.

“I don’t know,” she says simply, and then the real kicker, “Will you please come kiss me?”

Cordelia stands on steady feet and strides across the room, takes Misty into her arms and looks at her for a prolonged moment, asking for permission.

Misty barely nods her head in confirmation, and then Cordelia’s own head tilts and her lips are on Misty’s. For all the thinking and yearning Misty has done about this exact moment, there was nothing that could have prepared her for the real thing. The second their lips meet, it’s as though their souls have met for the first time, whispering echoes of _it’s lovely to finally meet you_, and _I love you_.

For minutes, hours, or even days for all Misty knew, Cordelia’s lips were mapping the area of her face, her brow bone, cheeks, and forehead; a cartographer on a mission. She let Cordelia kiss her as she pleases, keeping her eyes screwed shut in case when she opened them this had all been a sick dream. Her two trembling hands find themselves cupping Cordelia’s elbows for stability, and even this innocent touch sends a tremor throughout her body. Cordelia placates her and soothes nerves by handling Misty so delicately she could cry. 

The walls around them could crumble, the world outside could go up in flames and Misty would go willingly along with it, as long as Cordelia’s mouth is still sucking on the pulse point behind her ear. There is nothing more important than letting Cordelia’s tongue part her lips and slide inside her mouth, and when this becomes reality, Misty can’t help but emit a low groan that sends a shiver through her companion.

Cordelia reaches for Misty’s waist and draws her in closer, practically falling into her lap. They are connected as they have always meant to be, but Misty finally sees the beauty of this connection now. Two hearts, two souls, one shared emotion so strong it knocks the wind from her chest. Over and over, Misty feels her body ascend to new levels, to places so euphoric it has to be a fantasy.

Pulling back to catch her breath, wet lipped and trembling with desire, Cordelia looks at Misty with new eyes, like the last twenty minutes have unlocked a side to her long unseen. She takes Misty’s cheeks in her palms and speaks, low and gritty. “When you left my arms, I wanted nothing more than to give you one more second on this earth. I would have given up my life just to see you again. I would have turned to dust myself if it meant you could be back here.”

Misty doesn’t know how to say what she wants to say, can’t make the words come from her mouth. Instead, she unfurls from her position and stands, dropping her shawl, dress and finally bra to the floor. She declares simply, “We have time now.”

Cordelia looks up at Misty’s naked body with marvel in her eyes, looks incredibly long and hard at what she’s been given in this late hour. She’s wanted this for so long she’s scared to touch Misty, in fear her hand would go right through like the mirage she seems to be. With Misty this vulnerable here, with her, she doesn’t want to fuck it up; needs it to be perfect. She takes Misty’s hand, guides her to the bed, and gently presses her down atop the expensive comforter that welcomes her home.

Standing at the side of the bed, Cordelia undresses herself slowly as Misty watches faithfully with hooded eyes, a hawk eyeing up its prey. Cordelia wants nothing more than to be Misty’s prey, to let her devour her soul hungrily and ask for seconds, thirds, and fourths. She will allow this, because it is what Misty wants and she will never not succumb to that pull.

When she’s down to her bra and underwear, Misty grows tired of waiting and pulls her down on top, where her body covers Misty like a blanket. The feeling of Cordelia's soft skin pressing up against her own ignites a spark of desire in the pit of her stomach, and it makes her ache for Cordelia's touch. It's a shame Cordelia is busy straddling her leg and sliding along the length it, wet panties soaked through as she grinds her hips back and forth. Misty can barely think to grapple the dip of her hip bone and aid the rolls, can barely keep her eyes focused on any one thing. Everything is happening so fast that she can't pinpoint what she wants more; Cordelia coming on her leg like this, or having the taste of Cordelia on her tongue. Perhaps tonight she will be greedy and have both.

"Oh, _Mist_," she mumbles incoherently, "you feel s'good." Her hair is mussed and there is lipstick smeared on her chin, but Misty has never seen anything so fucking beautiful. A goddamn dream come true. Misty reaches up to swipe the lipstick away, but Cordelia has other plans and captures her thumb between teeth, sucks on it like it isn't supposed to be the single most erotic thing Misty has ever seen.

If she wasn't desperately trying to get Cordelia to slow down and rid her of her bra, Misty would touch herself at the image of Cordelia using her body to get off. Maybe this is love, she wonders, letting someone use you for the own personal gain. Cordelia can have whatever she wants from Misty and she will never deny her that privilege. Cordelia can _ruin_ her, and Misty would still be overjoyed. Maybe, Misty thinks gleefully, Cordelia already has ruined her for everyone else. Thinks, no one else can have her the way Cordelia has.

Their lips collide once more, and this time it is not slow and lethargic. They are not meeting for the first time, but instead have known each other for lifetimes at this point and have grown tired of longing for each other’s touch. Misty flips them so that Cordelia is underneath, chest rising and falling with overexertion.

Two deft hands reach behind her back to unclasp the bra, and then Cordelia is bare from the waist up. Misty swoops down to have her mouth on Cordelia’s neck when there’s a glint of metal shining in the light from the bedside table. She sits up properly and belly laughs as she looks down. There, on Cordelia’s right breast, is a nipple piercing.

Teasing it with her pointer finger, Misty grins wickedly as Cordelia’s hips jump in response. “What’s this?” she questions, rubbing the nipple until it grew stiff under her fingertip.

“A mistake I made in college,” Cordelia reveals, “but I was too scared to get the second one done.”

“It’s kind of sexy.”

“You think?”

Misty ducks her head and takes the pert bud between her lips, warm tongue sliding back and forth over the cool metal bar until Cordelia is gasping and gulping for air. Her legs spread uncontrollably, desperately aching for some type of relief. When Misty presses her fingertips over her panties and massages gently, Cordelia’s groan is a guttural thing that sends reverberations through the four walls of their room. She grabs Misty’s hand to a halt and grinds out, “_Stop teasing_.”

The noises she is making has Misty’s head swimming, and she wants nothing more than to bury her face between two thighs and see what other kind she can draw out. She descends down Cordelia’s torso, dotting kisses over quivering muscles and abdominals until she reaches the apex of Cordelia’s legs. Glancing up, she hooks two thumbs into the waistband of underwear and waits, needs to hear explicit permission before going to the next step. Once this is complete, there is no going back. Misty does not ever want to go back, only wants to remember this exact moment for the rest of her life.

Cordelia drops her name like a prayer, and then she is gloriously, gloriously naked. 

Misty crawls down further on the bed, situates herself by lifting one of Cordelia’s legs over her shoulder. “Lord Almighty,” she comments airily, swiping her fingers over Cordelia’s clit once, “you’re so wet for me.”

Her mouth makes first contact with the wetness there waiting for her. Cordelia’s sigh is colossal, almost so loud it threatens to expose them to the rest of the house. Misty makes quick work of her arousal, using her tongue to draw a slick line over her, licking her clit in an obscene gesture that has Cordelia teetering on the edge so soon. She places a palm on one thigh to spread Cordelia open wider, and the sounds she makes against the wet skin is terrifyingly arousing.

Clenching her stomach muscles to delay what she has been dying a thousand deaths per day to do, Cordelia spits out a, “_Fuck, Misty,_” that makes the woman lower on the bed swell with glee. Misty uses her lips to suckle softly at her clit, teasing it before taking it fully in her mouth. Both hands slide up smooth skin until her palms graze openly over Cordelia’s nipples that stood at attention for her. _Because_ of her. 

She can feel Cordelia’s heel dig into her back, Cordelia’s fingertips scratching at her scalp, and Cordelia’s legs shaking around her head, but she does not let it distract her. Instead, she matches the roll of Cordelia’s hips with her tongue and suddenly she is crying out one last time before coming in Misty’s mouth. The feeling of having Cordelia come undone has Misty’s mind reeling, brain trying to memorize every last second of this entire exchange. Cordelia allows the mind numbing pleasure to wash over her, let it consume her from the inside out. All her future interactions with Misty will bring this memory to the forefront of her mind, and Cordelia is unsure if she will ever get over it, the crystal clear image of Misty’s lips gliding along the inside of her thighs. It’s burned in her brain now, a delicacy only she will get to keep and derive for her own rapture.

Misty crouches on her knees and yanks Cordelia’s hips further down the bed, wants so badly to slide her fingers in places she’s long coveted. Cordelia shifts backwards and up, whining softly, tugging at the wrist that dove between her legs. Her head is still tossed to the side, buried into the pillow that had caught her gasps and moans. She finally finds her voice, saying, “It _tickles_.” Her words are hoarse and meek, like Misty has fucked her so good she’s lost the ability to enunciate properly.

Misty looks down and realizes the tips of her hair has been brushing against Cordelia’s lower stomach, and before she can pull it back into a bun she is being tugged up. She lays mirroring Cordelia, looking disheveled and pink and sweet. 

They’ll have time later, Misty selfishly thinks, and a large part of her is smug that Cordelia looks like she will give her an infinite amount of it. 

Cordelia tastes herself off Misty’s face, humming while keeping her hands tangled in wild hair. When she licks her chin and kisses it with finality, Misty finally opens her eyes and finds Cordelia staring intently back at her. There is an unspoken agreement between the two of them that this is what they have both been waiting for. It’s sad it took them so long, but then Cordelia’s fingers are shyly traipsing down Misty’s torso and she thinks she could have waited a little longer if this is the pay off.

“You know, Delia,” Misty says, and Cordelia’s fingers slow down their journey.

“No, keep going,” she urges, “I just wanted to say that I’ve done a lot of things wrong in my life but I think lovin’ you was the one damn thing I did right.”

Cordelia looks at Misty with shining eyes, leaning forward to pamper her with a sweet kiss. Her hips jerk and twitch as Cordelia teases her slowly, ghosting over her inner thighs before Misty grabs her hand and places it where it needs to be.

Misty is so wet she's dripping, and she believes she could be embarrassed about it if Cordelia didn't let out a breathy sigh of marvel and start immediately swirling her clit with a delicate touch. Her eyes flutter shut under the weight of arousal, and Cordelia lets her be as loud as she pleases, because every time she moans Cordelia gets to kiss her to muffle the sound. A perfectly crafted symbiotic relationship.

With each careful stroke, Misty finally sees the last side of Cordelia. The one that gives more than she takes, all with a smile on her face and more eternal contentment than she knows what to do with. It’s like she’s been put on this earth to love Misty and protect her coven in that specific order, everything else just confetti at this point. When Misty gasps in her ear, low and throaty, Cordelia is spurred on purely for the selfish benefit of wanting to hear more of these sounds. She thinks she might deserve it, after all. 

It doesn’t take long for Misty, not after having her mouth between Cordelia’s legs, her lips on places she’s long fantasized about. When Cordelia’s two long fingers slide over her entrance, she barely has to beg “_please_,” and they are pushing inside. Never in the million times that she’d imagined what Cordelia would feel like inside her did she consider the fact that Cordelia may be much more skilled than she’d given her credit for. She fucks with precision, so eloquent even in such a state like this, and Misty is quickly crying out and gasping for air, throbbing violently from the inside out.

The flush that ebbs and flows across Misty’s chest tells Cordelia that she is real, that blood flows through her veins and keeps a heart pumping steadily. She is alive, and Cordelia feels the undeniable urge to make her feel just so.

She curls her fingers harder, faster; murmuring words of praise just as Misty goes to plea for more. Her chest feels startlingly raw, like she can't catch her breath. She decides that she prefers it like this, with Cordelia being right there to breathe the life back into her. A skilled thumb rubs over her clit once, twice, and on the third roll Misty is coming harder than she has ever come in her life. When she is alone next, this feeling of being so full of Cordelia will bring her to orgasm almost immediately.

In Cordelia’s arms, Misty shakes and moans until the last waves of pleasure dissipate. As she rhythmically flutters around her fingers, Cordelia keeps her pace shallow and steady to bring her down slowly. When it’s over, Cordelia brushes her hair back and kisses her forehead, sticky with a sheen of light sweat. Misty doesn’t care about that, she doesn’t care about anything but just having been with Cordelia more intimately than any dream she’s ever conjured. She pulls at her hand until the wet fingers dangle in front of her face, where she analyzes them for a moment before arching forward and sucking them past pink lips. Cordelia stares at her with wide eyes as if she cannot believe this is real and that it is happening.

“_Christ_. I love you,” she mumbles as Misty angles her head to peck at her throat, too enthralled to tell her not to leave a mark. “More than I have and will ever love another thing in this world.”

Misty props herself up on an elbow and catches Cordelia’s wrist, dotting it with kisses like she can’t believe she is allowed to do so. “I know,” she says, before smiling, “I know the feeling.”

It’s all Cordelia needs to feel whole again.

She nudges Misty lightly so she can flip the covers back, where they then curl together so close that any space between them would be a disservice. For a while there are no words, only innocent touches and sweet smiles.

  
Hours later, when they had been sure the house was asleep, the two snuck downstairs in an old t-shirt and a silk robe, respectively. Back in bed, they share a slice of cold pizza that Zoe had cooked earlier and Cordelia makes a show of kissing the sauce off Misty’s chin, much to her amusement. Practically tossing the plate on the nightstand to deal with at a later time, Misty kisses Cordelia properly, threads her hands through impossibly soft hair and melts into it without a second thought.

“Tell me something,” Cordelia asks eventually, and Misty quirks her eyebrows in amusement.

“Yes?”

“You and Coco never-” she tries to put this delicately, “You didn’t…”

“I might tell you if you kiss me again.”

And, well, Cordelia never wanted to stop doing that. It’s not fair, she thinks, that Misty gets to walk around everyday looking like _this_, a heavenly creature that roams the earth freely as though it deserves her. Nothing in this world, not one person, place, or thing, deserves Misty in her entirety. Cordelia is learning, though, that perhaps she may be the one exception. 

She places a kiss on Misty’s ear, her eyelashes, cheek, and then finally her lips. There is no greater act of love to her than kissing Misty the way she should have been doing years ago. Every place her mouth brushes against leaves behind a burning heat, a crimson bloom that tells Misty she will never feel like this with anyone else for as long as she lives.

Cordelia finds herself on her back again, and Misty’s arousal is certainly reignited if the way she grinds down on her thigh any indication. 

“Wait,” Cordelia cries out as Misty’s thumb finds her nipple again, “You never told me if you and Coco, you know-”

Misty cocks her head to the side and gives her a shit-eating grin. 

“What can I say, Delia, I have a thing for blondes.”

**Author's Note:**

> idk im kinda proud of this one so if you like it drop a comment or come scream abt them with me on [twitter](Http://twitter.com/moonmotels1) or [tumblr](Http://moonmotels.tumblr.com) :-)
> 
> this is all for britt who took me to a fleetwood mac concert and let me plan this fic out while we waited to get out of the parking lot. i love u!!!!!!!!!!


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